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I’ve always been fascinated with graffiti, whether scrawled on hidden walls or carved into park benches. Anonymous conversations and arguments held in public spaces for the world to see. These raw and spontaneous scribblings have become a forum of all sorts, a collection of opinions about drugs, politics, sex, war, racism and of course a healthy dose of drunken poetry.

We are living in what some have called the golden age of self-expression. The explosion of user-created content on blogs and social networking sites has moved even Time magazine to name “You” their 2006 person of the year. Whatever that really means.

But while we may be spending a lot more time in virtual worlds, we have not lost the urge to make our physical world more meaningful. By leaving art and ideas in public places, you can affect someone’s day—change their mood or their mind—and maybe even change the world’s thoughts in the process.

Now there’s an idea.

Self expression as an artistic means, is full of exceptional processes, open thoughts and truths in the real world, not just any organized school art project or agreed upon political discussion. There’s no hiding or fearful musing about, only the impetuous truth and feelings of …whatever it is you want to talk about really.

Everyday I walk through dark yet contrastingly colourful city alleys, each gritty wall holds a narrative, a blank canvas for testimony.

What hides beneath the heart of life?

In particular, I have noticed the heart-box.
Fixed to the wall alongside remains of old paint stains, political stickers and graffiti marks. The small and antique like box is wooden and weathered. Painted with a red heart, supporting a small skeleton keyhole. The final touch is tiny metal plate fitted to the bottom right corner that reads something along the line of ‘everything for love’.

Amid the usual clutter of a besmirched alley, is a humble act of love, beauty and art.
The heart-box is continually blanketed with black paint, graffiti and meaningless tags, but come Monday again, it’s mysteriously re-polished, re-painted and as good as new. Touching.

Henry David Thoreau, himself.

Which finally draws me to a perceptive point that Henry David Thoreau made:
“It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or carve a statue, and so make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look. To affect the quality of the day – that is the highest of arts.”
– Henry David Thoreau